


The Fringes of Arcane Science

by AuthorLoremIpsum



Series: The Fringes of Arcane Science [1]
Category: Fringe (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Fringe style storytelling, Gore, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Other, Pseudoscience, Seizures, Slime, Sort of AU, casefic, it's like canon adjacent, mental landscapes, mind sharing, severe body horror, watson style storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-07-17 03:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorLoremIpsum/pseuds/AuthorLoremIpsum
Summary: Dr. Jekyll is poisoned on the walk home from a fancy dinner, and Dr. Lanyon rushes to the renowned detective Mr. Holmes for help. It's a race against time as Jekyll's body threatens to tear itself apart, and with a little help from the Society for Arcane Sciences, they might just be able to save him.





	1. Prologue - Again and Again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the TV show Fringe- which is basically pseudoscience crime thriller- this idea smacked me at work and destroyed my wrists while being written. I've also been meaning to write a TGS fic featuring Holmes and Watson for months now, and here we are!  
> Thus, this fic is written with Fringe in mind, and all the warnings that come with.  
> Expect graphic descriptions of body horror and gore later, I'll put a warning in the notes before it gets real bad.

Doctor Jekyll had a very, very long day.

He wasn’t the type to admit it or let it show, but he was very tired and very much would rather go home.

Alas, his assistant had demanded he go to Soho and pick up the wallet from his flat, and if Jekyll intended to go out that night, he would need the wallet. So, despite his feet being sore from milling around and his voice sore from talking with potential funding clients for his current project- the Society for Arcane Sciences- he trekked all the way to Soho, up the stairs, and grabbed the wallet from where it had been dropped in the scuffle that turned the flat upside down.

Jekyll sighed at the mess, he would have to clean this, his assistant would certainly never, despite it being  _ his _ home.

He shook his head, turned, and walked back out to the street, giving the sour landlady a pleasant smile and wave.

Rain dribbled down in mist as he walked along familiar streets, out of the seedier districts to where the Society sat. He could see the smoke from the chimneys two blocks away, and it brought a smile to his face, this could be a good evening after all. His friend, Doctor Lanyon was waiting there with their lodgers, and they’d surely know how to cheer him up. Good wine, snacks, stories and-

Someone lunged from the darkness, startling the doctor from his musings as he shouted in surprise. Dressed in black, Jekyll barely had a chance to acknowledge their presence before they reached into their coat and splashed something foul in his face. He coughed and spluttered, swallowing some by accident and feeling more go up his nose and in his eyes.

Admittedly, he swore, using his cloak to try and wipe his face clear as he looked for the stranger.

They were running away ahead and he scowled. “What a rude person… No no, this stuff seems harmless, nothing’s burning anyway…”

He sighed, drawing himself up straight and marching onward, home again.

In retrospect, he could have called a cab, but visiting Soho could’ve sprouted some, rumors concerning the nature of his connection to his assistant. Dangerous business, couldn’t have more rumors than what already existed.

The stairs of the Society were slick and he climbed them slowly, knocking on the door and being let in by the familiar face of Ms. Flowers.

“Doctor Lanyon is waiting in the dining hall with the others,” she explained, taking his hat for him as he removed his cloak. “We’re, all rather excited to hear the news.”

“Then I must hurry shouldn’t I? And why ruin the surprise by telling you?” Jekyll said with a sly smile that made Flowers giggle. 

“Of course Doctor. Come on, let’s go!”

They walked quickly towards the dining room, full of sound and laughter and wine as the Lodgers had gathered for dinner. Lanyon had joined them on a whim, knowing Jekyll would come to tell them the news and wanting to meet him of course, but it all had turned out quite fun! And his eyes lit up even brighter as Doctor Jekyll entered the room with Ms. Flowers.

A hush fell over the gathered Lodgers as Jekyll clapped a few times. “Attention, attention everyone! I’ve got good news!”

“Did they agree to fund us?” asked one of the lodgers, Mr. Doddle, smiling eagerly.

“Well, not only did they agree,” Doctor Jekyll began, “They-” and his voice caught in his throat.

He put a hand to his chest, brow furrowed and face pale, “No no no…” He could feel his heart racing in his chest and a familiar ache beginning to spread from his joints inward.

Lanyon stepped closer, “Henry? Is something wrong? Do you feel ill?”

Jekyll raised a hand, “No no I’m, I’m fine. I just, suddenly I, I…” He leaned on the table, head beginning to swim, feeling like he was standing on the verge of a cliff. Lanyon placed a hand on his back, trying to say something, but Jekyll couldn’t hear him over the thundering of his heart and his racing thoughts.

And then-

Drip

Drip

Drip

Strange, greenish goop dripped onto the table, and with a shaking hand, Jekyll reached up to confirm that, indeed, it was coming from his nose.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” Lanyon asked again, watching his friend’s eyes grow wide.

But he couldn’t answer, as a powerful shudder overtook him, forcing him to double over as his whole body began to convulse. A shout went up as he collapsed, back arching as something horrible began to happen. His friends watched in horror, those who were not closest clamoring for a look, as his bones cracked and skin shrank, hair changing length and color-

Until Edward Hyde, Doctor Jekyll’s assistant, lay there, looking stunned and horrified.

“Henry what-” Lanyon began.

“No no that wasn’t supposed to happen,” Hyde said over him, eyes searching all over. “Something, something’s wr-AGH!” 

His body spasmed and he turned, vomiting that strange green substance once again as the change began all over again.

“Miss Ito! I need a sedative!” Doctor Lanyon ordered, hovering and watching in horror as Hyde slowly, painfully changed back into his friend.

This wasn’t going to stop.

Oh god, it wasn’t going to stop!


	2. Doctor Lanyon Seeks Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Lanyon travels to 221B Baker Street for help.

“Watson, a question.”

I looked up from my half typed manuscript, that of the story The Devil’s Foot, across the sitting room to where Sherlock Holmes sat curled sideways in an armchair with his feet braced on an arm rest. “Ask away.”

“Tell me, is it in fact, at all medically reasonable, to think it possible that two human beings might be able to share a thought or mind if they were both given the same sedating drug and placed in a sort of suspended animation?” he asked, scowling into the pages of his book.

Admittedly, I laughed at this notion. “Why on earth would you wonder such a thing? That is pseudoscience, hardly realistic.”

“Maybe so, but this book of tripe seems to be convinced it’s plausible!” Holmes exclaimed, snapping it shut. “Mycroft sent it to me with the idea that, perhaps, I’d find the idea of communicating with the dead via electrical stimulation of the brain, despite it completely being scientifically unreasonable!”

“You know, if scientists weren’t such pariahs, I’m sure someone would have disproved it by now,” I offered, looking back at my manuscript.

Holmes shifted to sit upright in his chair, adjusting his pipe. “That may be so.”

“Why not disprove if yourself? You’ve ample access to corpses.”

“This is also true.” He hummed, smiling a little, “Hm! Perhaps I will. Join the ranks of these rogue scientists as it were.”

This made me chuckle again. “Rogue? Are they no longer mad?”

“I find their practices admirable and intriguing, I do not wish to call sane individuals mad. But hark, someone’s hurrying up to us! Snap too Watson, they sound frantic!”

Sure enough, they threw open our door and we shared a gasp.

The dark faced man standing in our door, lanky, with curling brown hair and a dusting of freckles, swayed dangerously as he stopped, threatening to collapse completely. Holmes ran to his side and helped him into an armchair as I set my typewriter aside to fetch brandy. Sure enough, a few sips and a warm fire seemed to rouse him from the daze we had met him in.

“Thank you, thank you,” he mumbled, holding the glass like a lifeline, eyes unfocused in the fire.

Holmes knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Good sir, while I see you’ve come in such a hurry, we cannot waste time if your friend is so ill.”

The man startled, looking at Holmes in alarm. “How on earth could you tell he’s ill!?”

“You’ve stains on your sleeve and you smell like bile, I’d take you for a doctor on his way home were it not for the clean nature of the rest of your outfit and freshness of the stains. But please, do not tardy by being shocked, tell us what happened, if you have indeed sought our help.”

The man swallowed hard, nodding, and I realized he was younger than I had thought him. By no means a child, but a young man for certain, and a bachelor, given the lack of a ring.

“Of course, of course, I must get a grip. But what happened has me so shaken, and enraged! I have a hundred questions for Henry, but I can’t ask them if he dies… So, here is what took place not more than an hour ago.

“I’m Doctor Robert Lanyon, and with my close friend Doctor Henry Jekyll, we’ve spent the last few years building a reputation for an organization known as the Society for Arcane Sciences.”

Holmes had resumed his seat in an armchair, and I noticed a flicker of a smile on his cold face. “I’ve heard of this Society, good and bad things, but mostly bad. Tell me, has there been an accident?”

“Most certainly, and I fear what would happen to Henry if word were to get out. Our Lodgers, the scientists we house, are gossips but have given me their word that they will not say a thing about this. I need you to promise me you’ll never say anything until it is safe!” Lanyon shot me a look, one indicating that I was not to write of this case, let alone publish it. (I would, in time, write it, but for my own and Holmes memories’ sake, and not for publication)

“You have our promise, what we see in this case will not escape us,” Holmes promised coolly, gesturing with one hand. “Please continue, what has happened this evening that brings you to our door?”

“Henry was out this evening in Northern London with me, discussing funding for our Society over dinner with a collection of professors from the University of London. I left early, but Henry stayed to negotiate the finer details before walking to the Society to meet me. I’m not sure why he wanted to walk specifically, but he insisted I not call a cab for him later that evening.

“He arrived at the Society only a little bit later than we had arranged, near seven in the evening. The Society seems to never sleep, so I was cavorting with our Lodgers when he joined us. He’d begun to announce success when, when…” Lanyon trailed off, looking haunted.  
Once again, Holmes reached over and touched his arm, “Please Doctor Lanyon, you must not spare us the details. What happened?”

The doctor swallowed hard. “Jekyll has, an assistant, a short, foul mouthed man named Hyde, who I had not met before this evening. He has a reputation around the Society for being a troublemaker and a liar and such, but not a truly cruel person. Tonight, I met him, after Jekyll collapsed in a fit of seizures, vomiting a strange green ooze. After the change had finished, he was Hyde!”

“A split personality?” Holmes asked, intrigue on his face.

“No! A full transformation of physical self!” Lanyon all but shouted, throwing his hands up. “He was shorter, thinner, his hair and eyes had changed color, his face was softer, he was an entirely different man! But all the same he’d been my Jekyll moments before! What’s more, he exhibited a completely different personality, leading me to believe, Jekyll and Hyde are the same mind, the same man!”

“But that is impossible.”

“I assure you, next to nothing is impossible in the Society. I had simply, I’d, I’d thought he’d left his days of mad science behind, but here he is using alchemy to make himself someone else when he wants a night of debauchery! I-” Lanyon steeled himself, taking another swig of brandy. “I’m getting ahead of myself. This is no time to be furious at my friend when his life is at stake.”

“Is this Hyde dangerous then?”

“No not particularly. However, the change did not stop, and he began the transformation back into Jekyll, without stop. Miss Ito, our local alchemist, predicts that whatever he was infected with between our dinner and arrival at the society, triggered this change in him and will continue to trigger it until some antidote is created. She’s working on it as we speak from notes in Jekyll’s lab and components of what she can find, however, she’s having little luck.”

“Why come to us? I am no alchemist and Watson here is an ordinary type of doctor.” Holmes frowned, tilting his head as an idea came to him, “Unless, you think someone did this to him.”

“His shirt and face were stained with some sort of chemical, as if someone splashed it in his face. I have every right to believe someone poisoned my friend to expose this side of him, though I feel as if that is not the only motive.” Lanyon emptied his brandy glass and set it aside. “That’s where I need your assistance. Please, we must find who did this, before they do it to someone else.”

“You think they may be able to create the effects on Doctor Jekyll in someone else?”

“With enough study, certainly.”

“Well, I think I must see your Jekyll for myself in any case. Give me a few moments to dress, and Watson to gather his things, and we’ll meet you downstairs.”

“I have a cab, the Society is not far from here.”

“Excellent.”

Lanyon left our sitting room in a hurry and I stood, but Holmes motioned me to pause until he was gone. “Do you believe what he’s said?”

“Most of it. I saw a werewolf once, Holmes, this world is more remarkable than you wish it to be,” I answered, taking my Webley from the top of the fireplace and slipping it into my coat. “A man’s life is at stake in any case, and possibly more.”

Holmes stood, shedding his dressing gown. “You’re absolutely right, we must be on our way at once. Perhaps we can find out what happened to this man on the way to the Society, that could give us a clue as to who may have done this, and why."

We shared a nod, and in no time at all, had joined Doctor Lanyon in the cab. It rattled down the road until we reached the Society for Arcane Sciences.

A tall building with a white face, it seemed ordinary at a glance. But the longer one looked, the stranger it became, the bronze crest over the door bearing strange claws and tentacles, some windows being broken and others bearing strange symbols or objects inside, twisting smoking chimneys and a large bronze observatory jutting from the roof. Holmes and I fairly stared for a moment as we exited, having never come this close to the extraordinary building before.

Doctor Lanyon lead us to the door and inside, to a large foyer ringed by balconies full of doors, leading presumably to rooms of the Lodgers and their laboratories. Strange artifacts filled the foyer and I had to tug Holmes away from a strange looking idol that he was staring at with confusion and fascination. Only then did I realize he was elated and excited, looking everywhere, mouth open in a smile, pointing and showing me everything he found interesting.

I couldn’t help but smile, his joy truly being infectious.

But both of us were forced to be serious when Lanyon lead us into a lab. Full of bottles and beakers, I could see the interest and curiosity in Holmes’ eyes as we were guided towards the back where a woman with dark hair and goggles was working frantically with a man that had wild dark brown hair and light brown skin.

“Mr. Archer, Miss Ito, how goes it?” Doctor Lanyon asked on our approach.

“Not good,” Archer reported, shaking his head. “Nothing we try has any effect on him, even his own potion.”

“Whatever he’s poisoned with, it’s cancelling the effects of the catalyst in the original potion,” Ito specified, examining a bottle. “We’ll need an entirely new solution to stop the effects completely. It could destroy Hyde but, at this rate I don’t think he’s really in danger. Just means he’ll be, out of commission for a while and-”

The two scientists looked up and their eyes went wide. Ito pushed up her goggles, blinking at us. “Is, are those-”

“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, at your service,” my friend said, tipping his cap and smiling. I gave a short bow as well, feeling honored they recognized us.

Ito grinned, “Mr. Holmes your manuscript on using chemical analysis to determine red stains as blood samples was truly inspired!”

“And the one you wrote on using soil samples to determine locations in London? Brilliant!” Mr. Archer exclaimed, grinning and gesturing excitedly.

Holmes’ pale cheeks colored and he put a hand to his mouth, shocked. “You, read my manuscripts?”

“Of course!”

“Many of us here at the Society are quite fans of your scientific work! Though there’s no shortage of fans of the stories Doctor Watson writes. And we-”

“While this is all very sweet, Henry is still dying here,” Lanyon interrupted in a very serious tone, looking between us.

Holmes cleared his throat, “Yes of course. Where is he, Doctor Jekyll, I should like to see him.”

“Of course.” Miss Ito nodded and calmed herself, “This way please.”

She lead us further back through the lab to a more open area where a few cots had been set up. On one of these, beside a table where his belongings had been folded and laid, rested a man. I’d seen Doctor Jekyll before in the papers, and this man did bear a striking resemblance to him, but… not quite, it was uncanny.

His hair was neither blonde nor brown, not long or short, he wasn’t tall or squat, and were it not for the paleness of his cheek, sweat soaked skin, and green stains upon his nose and mouth, I’d have thought him wholly unremarkable. Miss Ito held two photos out to us, or rather two sketches. “Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, for comparison.”

Holmes took the sketches, examining them closely, and looking to the man upon the table.

“I do say Holmes, it would seem they’re all the same man,” I said, stepping closer and checking the sedated individual’s pulse. It was fluttery and uneven, weak, worrisome.

“That, they do,” Holmes muttered, seeming truly stumped and confused. Impossible as it seemed, the evidence was staring him in the face, he had no choice but to accept it.

But rather than continue to stare at the impossible, he turned to Doctor Jekyll’s belongings and began to rummage through them. I saw him pause on a wallet, opening it and reading the credentials before setting it onto the cot. He took Jekyll’s shoes and examined the soil with a frown, and I wonder what sort of questions he was asking himself, trying to trace the source of the mud. They joined the wallet upon the cot.

Nothing else of the clothes seemed to interest him and he took what he’d found and walked over to Ito and Archer, I made to follow.

“How is he, doc?” Archer asked, glancing at Lanyon, who was still somberly looking down at his friend.

“His heart is beating irregularly, likely due to the sedative and the um, infection.” I thought for a moment, “Check it frequently, if it slows too much, lower the sedative dosage. If it slows to a near stop, adrenaline may work to keep it beating.”

Archer nodded and turned to make a note of this, thought even at a glance I could tell that medical procedures were not his forte. He had plants in his pockets and grease on his cuffs, surely Holmes would say he was a gardener and worked with machines, not bodies.

Holmes spoke up after Archer had finished his note. “I don’t suppose you’ve a microscope I could borrow, I’d like to examine where the good doctor has been walking this evening.”

Miss Ito cracked a smirk and shared a knowing look with Mr. Archer, “What kind of microscope do you need?”

“Oh? Well, a powerful one.”

“Got it.”

* * *

Bent over a table in Miss Ito’s laboratory, Holmes was hard at work examining the earth he’d scraped from the bottom of Doctor Jekyll’s shoes. I stood near the door, watching, occasionally looking back to where Doctor Jekyll, or was it perhaps more Hyde at this moment, was lying unconscious, Doctor Lanyon at his side.

I couldn’t help but frown in thought, the two seemed most intimate friends, and it pained me to think of what sort of argument would come from this if we managed to save Jekyll’s life. With luck, the two of them would be able to come to some sort of reconciliation. But, if Holmes were hiding such a secret as this from me, it would take me a few days at least before I could consider forgiving him for lying. 

Tired of waiting, I quietly left the lab to do some research of my own. Doctor Jekyll we could find much about, the man was in the papers every few weeks and Holmes already knew a good deal, however Hyde was much more of an enigma, and we’d hardly learned anything about him. So, while Holmes was busy tracking Jekyll, I could do a bit of seeking myself and find out about this Hyde. Though my leaving did startle a few eavesdropping individuals as I exited the lab, and startled me as well.

They were really rather a motley bunch.

A short young woman- probably a member of staff- with brown skin and dark hair in pigtails, a taller man with bright red hair and a hand seemingly made of metal, and a pale chap with white hair and glasses who gave me a solid glare for spooking him. Though I smiled, “Were you three spying on us?”

“No,” the pale man snapped.

“Maybe,” the woman mumbled.

“Yes,” the gent with the metal hand admitted.

They shared a look of conflicted feelings and the pale man rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t matter, we were just leaving.”

“Unless you need help, of course! With your investigation and all,” the staff woman said with a hopeful grin. “It’d be an honor to help THE Mister Holmes with an investigation!”

“A good number of us are fans of his work,” the metal handed man added, looking a bit embarrassed. “Rachel here just adores the stories.”

“They’re rubbish stories, science is the only interesting thing in them,” the pale man grumbled, folding his arms and looking away.

“Griffin!” Rachel snapped, pouting in his direction.

I couldn’t help but chuckle with a bit of pride, “It’s quite alright miss, I can’t appeal to everyone, let alone my best friend and your grumpy one. Though it would be helpful if the three of you could give me some information on Mr. Hyde. Doctor Lanyon seems rather close lipped about the whole thing.”

“We’d be glad to help! I’m Anthony Sinnett, these are Rachel Pidgley and Jack Griffin, he and I are scientists here while Rachel is head of kitchen staff and a sort of friend to many of us, especially Hyde.”

Nodding, I pulled a notepad from my coat and readied to record. “Tell me then, what’s he like exactly?”

“He’s a right prick,” Mr. Griffin said sourly, looking towards the foyer. “Thinks he owns this place, can do whatever he likes, all because Doctor Jekyll was his boss. Well, now we truly know why he could do whatever he wanted, because he was Jekyll after all!”

“You think he should have confessed this dual identity with you all?”

“Yes! He was one of us and he chose to parade around like some aristocrat.” Mr. Griffin seemed to soften, “I simply wish he’d been honest with us, we could have helped him study instead of, watching it tear him apart.”

“That’s why the Society exists after all,” Mr. Sinnett explained, raising his hand to display it. “Without help, this sort of study can be deadly, I nearly died due to a faulty experiment. But here, with my good friend Mr. Luckett, I can study safely, or at least with less fear of disaster. Had Doctor Jekyll come forward, we could have helped him perfect his experiment.”

“Which was?”

“According to his notes in his lab- which we investigated after sedating him- he was attempting to separate good and evil from the human soul.” Sinnett chuckled, “Of course, I don’t think good and evil are substances one can simply remove from the soul.”

“It seems more like he created a person based on his darkest fears,” Rachel said, trying to be helpful despite clearly being a bit out of her depth. “Or maybe based on his secret desires? Master Hyde was a bit, oh how would Miss Lavender say it?”

“He called himself a being of sin and debauchery, if that helps,” Griffin said, rolling his eyes. 

I made another note.

“Oh yes, that works.” Rachel chuckled nervously, playing with her hands as she tried to think. Then she wilted a little, “I’m very worried about them, if I’m honest, do you think you and Mr. Holmes will find the person who’s done this to them? Lock them away forever?”

“If anyone can find them,” I began, closing the notebook, “It’ll be Holmes. But if any of you see something, find us as quick as you can. But, on that note, would anyone here have any reason to do this?”

“Why? Think only a mad scientist could create such a potion?” Griffin growled, stepping closer, hands balling into fists.

“No certainly not!”

“Griffin, easy,” Sinnett tried to say. “It’s just part of the investigation, but doctor Watson, no one here had any idea of his secret! We wouldn’t have done something like this. Besides, we were all here all evening drinking!”

“I can testify to that,” Rachel piped, raising a hand. I nodded slowly, “I see no reason for any of you to hurt the two of them, since you’re all so close and dependent on him. I’ll put in a good word with Holmes.”

The trio gave their thanks, even though Griffin’s was more of a tight lipped grunt, and went off to see if they could help the investigation somewhere else. I tapped my chin with my pencil, I truly didn’t believe anyone in the Society was to blame for this, why would they hurt their friend who they clearly cared for? None of them that we’d met so far seemed mad.

They seemed, ordinary, if a bit eccentric, but no more so than Holmes.

I returned to the lab, despite having not gone far.

Holmes was still bent over his work, but someone had come to snoop over his shoulder. He wore dark clothes, including a face mask and goggles, with dark hair and an ashy sort of skin tone from dust presumably. He and Holmes were deep in conversation.

“It was really quite useful, your paper on the different soils of London, and I think perhaps my notes could be of some assistance as I’m very familiar with the earth in this area,” the gentleman was saying.

“If you sent a manuscript to my home, I’ll be glad to take a look,” Holmes hummed, still focused on his microscope. He shifted the tray slightly and let out a cry of elation. “Ah ha! That’s what I was looking for!”

“What exactly?” the man asked, leaning in, clearly intrigued.

“A certain formation of silica that is local to the Soho region,” he explained quite proudly. “And that, Mr. Mosley, was the last detail I needed to confirm that Doctor Jekyll passed through Soho before arriving at the Society.”

“Why on earth would he go through Soho?” asked Doctor Lanyon, coming over to us.

Holmes smiled and held up Hyde’s wallet, “To retrieve this in preparation for a night on the town. What say we pay his flat a visit?”


	3. Dirt of Soho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyde's apartment is investigated, and Holmes feels out of his depth.

We caught another cab to Soho, the city beginning to slow into slumber around us. Lanyon worried at his lip, rightfully concerned, because if we could not find the cure for Doctor Jekyll’s ailment by morning, there was every possibility he was going to die. I tried to reassure him, but seeing the city going to sleep indeed made my hopes sink a little bit, 

Holmes sat to one side, head sunk upon his breast, deep in thought as he read through Jekyll’s notes, scribbled neatly in a little journal. At the time, I thought he was merely thinking over the details in silence, as he was wont to do.

But now I am aware he was trying to get a footing on a dangerously slippery slope.

We stepped out in front of a two story house that looked like it hadn’t had a proper cleaning and repair in many, many years. It was plain, dark, with discolored paint and no bell or knocker. Lanyon regrettably confirmed that this was in fact the building, according to the address, and the three of us approached the unhappy abode.

Holmes rapped on the door and an old woman with a bitter frown opened the door and glared at us. “Ay? More coppers here to rummage through Mr. Hyde’s things? Aiming to cause another fight?”

“A fight madam?” Holmes asked, looking to us. “We were not aware the police were investigating Mr. Hyde.”

“That so? So’s he’s not been arrested yet?” She huffed in a raspy old voice, “Right shame, he’s one hell of a tenant. In and out at odd hours, causing fights in me living room, you best get him for somethin’ bein so I can evict him!”

“Madam we’re not here to arrest Mr. Hyde,” Holmes said, stifling a grin at her anger. “We’re investigating someone who hurt Mr. Hyde, and we think his flat may hold some clues.”

“And you’ll be wantin’ to search ‘is flat?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Go ahead, but iffin you start another fight, I’ll be calling the real police.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

She lead us through the house, which was as rickety inside as outside, up the stairs to the rooms above. The entry room appeared to be an unused sitting area, and through one door was an average messy bedroom. Through the second door, however, opened into a small makeshift laboratory. It would have been the spitting image of the lab in the Society, were it not for the broken glass and papers on the floor.

“This lab has been thrashed!” Lanyon exclaimed, insulted by the state of the laboratory.

“Indeed,” Holmes said, frowning. “Someone was looking for something…” He moved to the desk, inspecting the scattered papers and shifted glass.

“There are missing test tubes from this rack over here,” Lanyon called, investigating a desk on the opposite side. 

“Are you sure they were not broken?” I said, coming to his side, carefully stepping over glass. Lanyon shook his head, “Definitely not, there’s too much glass for test tubes.”

“No cork either,” Holmes remarked without looking up. He scooped up some papers and came over, “Most of these are documentation of Hyde’s nights, but it seems the initial notes, possibly containing the formula for the potion, are gone. Whoever came in here, must’ve taken it.”

Lanyon peered over his shoulder, “Have you still got Jekyll’s notebook?”

Holmes pulled it out and they began to compare it to Hyde’s notes, confirming that indeed, the portion that would’ve contained Jekyll’s astounding formula were gone, and that the missing test tubes were also gone.

“It says here the catalyst of the potion is a particularly kind of salt,” Holmes said, indicating to me where it said that on the page. “Search the room, see if you can find it.”

The three of us shared a nod and moved to different parts of the room, opening cabinets and drawers, looking for anything that might contain the salt. I noticed, after a moment, the old woman was standing in the door. I straightened, “Ma’am, can you perhaps tell us what happened in here?”

“I did,” she said sourly. “Mistah Hyde got into a fight with that officer who came to take a look.”

I stood and approached the old woman, “Can you tell us what happened?”

She nodded, “Of course. It was three nights ago, I was getting ready for bed, not expectin’ Mister Hyde to be coming home that evening. At half past nine, there comes a knocking on my door and I answer, expecting Mister Hyde had forgotten his key again. Damn man was so forgetful. I open the door and there’s a man in a suit and he asks to see Mister Hyde’s room, saying he’s a detective looking into a theft.

“I was so tired I just let him in, thinking he could find something to let me evict mister Hyde finally. He went upstairs and started rifling through the papers, mumbling about ingredients and things. Then I heard The door slam open downstairs and knew Mister Hyde must’ve come home, so I hid in my room and listened to the whole thing.

“‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Mister Hyde demanded, storming into the lab.

“I didn’t hear the man answer, but I did hear him throw the chair. There was all sorts of shouting and breaking glass and the man ran off down the stairs with Mister Hyde hot in pursuit. He didn’t come back that night, so I locked the door and didn’t bother cleaning up his mess. Though it’s gone and bloody stained my floor, he better come back and clean up.”

I nodded slowly, listening intently. That explained the state of disarray and the missing items. “Madam, did a gentleman come by to retrieve something of Mister Hyde’s?”

“Oh? Yes that Doctor Jekyll fellow, very pleasant actually, can’t believe he’d hire someone like Hyde.”

“So he passed through Soho to pick up Hyde’s wallet, dropped in the fight,” Lanyon said, summarizing it.

“Between here and the Society was where he was attacked,” I added, gesturing with one hand. “Perhaps that’ll give us a clue as to who was waiting for him, they must’ve followed him or known he would’ve gone that way?”

“You’re trying to draw conclusions without evidence or clues, it won’t do us any good,” Holmes said, joining us, papers in hand. “The simplest answer would be to find WHO this person is, ma’am what did this officer look like?”

“Well, he had a thick beard and big glasses, as well as lots of hair.”

Holmes nodded in thought, “A wig and beard, but even still, those could’ve been lost during the scuffle. So Hyde has seen him, even if in disguise. Thus, we must ask him.”

To my surprise, Lanyon stiffened. “Holmes, we can’t wake Hyde up.”

“Why not? You said so yourself the change took time, if he were conscious, we might be able to ask him a few questions about the man he fought with,” Holmes said nonchalantly.

Lanyon grabbed his shirt, looking quite intense, “They could die if we woke them up, the change could tear them apart! You would kill them for something we could find out in time!”

“It’s the simplest way and-”

“Holmes.” I cut him off with a stern glare and he stopped, staring at me. “The fact of the matter is, we don’t know if it would be safe enough to wake them up without killing or permanently damaging. The only safe state for them is sedated, and I’m going to side with Doctor Lanyon and not allow you to wake him up.”

Holmes looked between us, and put a hand on his chin, thinking. “I will need more time to come up with a plan then, let us return to the Society, I’d like to examine Jekyll’s lab and office once more.”

We shared a nod and started out, thanking the old woman for letting us investigate.

But as we started out on the street, Lanyon brightened. “Professor Presbury? What on earth are you doing out here?”

We glanced over to see a broad shouldered man approaching us, one who smiled at Lanyon. “I was visiting a friend as I passed by here. Say, how is Jekyll? He seemed a little eager to leave this evening.”

“Oh I’m sure he simply had something he had to do,” Lanyon said, laughing nonchalantly. “But he’s fine, we just picked something up for a friend of his.”

“Of course. Are you still on for lunch at the university?”

“Yes of course, but we must be going.” Lanyon waved and pushed us along, all while Holmes and I shared a very confused look.

Once we were out of earshot, Lanyon groaned. “Ugh, Presbury was nagging Henry and I all evening about our work in the Society. He was convinced we were working on some secret project and wanted all the details!”

“Well, in his defense, Henry was working on something secret,” I said as we walked along. Lanyon scowled at me, clearly defensive of his friend and his friend’s, experiments. “I apologize doctor Lanyon.”

He shook his head, “It’s alright, Presbury seemed to think we were working on something to stop death or perhaps, make one younger. Which, according to all of our Lodgers, is likely impossible without severe consequences.”

“Hyde appeared younger,” Holmes remarked quietly.

Lanyon and I stared at him as he moved out to hail a cab.

“Holmes, are you saying Presbury somehow knew about Jekyll and Hyde?” Lanyon asked with a frown. “Tonight was the first time he’d met Jekyll face to face.”

“I’m not saying anything merely stating a fact,” he hummed. “Besides, I do not think we will get more tonight, I should like some more time to think instead. Lanyon, Watson and I will be by tomorrow to continue our investigation.”

“Tomorrow?” Lanyon asked, aghast. “Henry could die by then!”

“Have more faith in your Lodgers,” he assured the doctor coolly, “They’ll keep him alive, and so will you. He’s survived this long, and if he stays sedated, his state should remain unchanged.”

Lanyon’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of something to say. But in the end, he went silent, sighing. “I pray that you are right.”

“We’ll return to the Society at first light,” Holmes said as the carriage rumbled up. “And with luck, I’ll have more answers for you.”

“Thank you, Holmes, Doctor Watson,” Lanyon said, quiet, despondent.

Holmes climbed into the carriage and I paused before doing the same. “Doctor Lanyon, I, well I wish you the best of luck. Even more so, have faith. We will find this person, and Ito will be able to create an antidote.”

He nodded, and smiled sadly.

I climbed in and shut the door behind, waving as we rode along, another cab pulling up to pick up Lanyon. Leaning back, I sighed, allowing my eyes to close.

“John?”

I opened one to look over at Holmes, and was surprised to see him look, lost. “Yes Sherlock?”

“Am I, foolish?”

“Foolish? What made you think you were foolish?”

“This, all of this. I feel, lost, uncertain, as if I’m looking into some deep darkness and it is making me irrational.” 

I sat up a bit, looking across to him, leaning forward on my knees. “Sherlock, I feel equally lost here, we’re missing information we can’t get because a man is unconscious, but that does not make me, less than capable right?”

“No, certainly not.”

“You don’t have to know everything Sherlock, that’s why we learn and explore.”

“For once, you are teaching me, and not the other way around.”

I smiled and reached over to put a hand on his leg, offering a smile. “Tomorrow, we will think of this tomorrow. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson will have dinner waiting for us, then you and I can share a pipe by the fire and discuss the more remarkable aspects of today.”

“Yes, I quite like the sound of that.”

And we returned home to Baker Street.

As we sat, smoking, Holmes ruminating on the day’s events, surely trying to think of why someone would want to steal a potion that forced a split personality upon an unsuspecting mind, I picked up the book he had been reading earlier and gave it a look over.  _ The Power Of The Human Mind, _ was the title, by some fellow named Bishop. 

On a whim, I opened it to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out the chapters are shorter than the first, which on one hand I feel kind of bad about but on the OTHER hand? Chapters are as long as they need to be to get the point across and you guys don't wanna read filler, right? Right.


	4. Embracing Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson agrees to something and Holmes looks through his archives.

Holmes roused me at sunrise the next morning and we hurried off to the Society.

Unlike the night before, the Society was very quiet, and Holmes reasoned the Lodgers must be late risers. Nonetheless, the staff-woman Rachel greeted us at the door and let us inside to Jekyll’s office. Holmes dove into the records, comparing Jekyll and Hyde’s notes with fervor.

Rachel tugged my sleeve, “Sir? Would you come check on Doctor Jekyll please? I sent Doctor Lanyon home in the early morning, he was falling asleep at the helm!”

I smiled at her, “Of course.”

She practically pulled me upstairs to the alchemy lab and back to where Jekyll still lay, unconscious on the cot. His hair had somehow darkened and shortened over the night, showing that the change was still taking place at a much slower pace. Perhaps that was better for him than the rapid change, but it wasn’t perfect. Miss Ito lay on a neighboring cot, fast asleep, dark circles around her eyes.

A dedicated woman, she would make a great doctor if she chose to go that way.

Meticulously, I checked Jekyll’s pulse, his temperature, blood pressure, and was relieved to see they were all fairly unchanged from the night before. He was stable, but effectively comatose, and he would have to stay that way unless we found some way to fix him.

“Miss Ito and Doctor Lanyon were up almost all night trying to make some sort of antidote,” Rachel explained softly as the two of us stood over his sleeping form. “But from what they told me when I came in this morning, nothing was working still. Do you think they’ll find a way to save him?”

“I’m not sure miss Rachel,” I said softly, turning towards the door. “Come, let’s let them rest. I worry what Holmes might do in that office without supervision.”

That drew a chuckle from the young woman and we walked off to find him. 

Instead, he found us, papers in hand.

“Hyde told someone!” he exclaimed, holding open Jekyll’s papers. “That’s how someone knew to raid his home, to splash Jekyll! He  _ told _ someone.”

“He must’ve been drunk,” Rachel sighed.

“He couldn’t be that stupid,” I said, frowning.

Holmes nodded, offering me the paper, “See for yourself!”

I took it, flicking it open and reading over Jekyll’s cursive script. It was a simple recounting of what Hyde had done that evening, a page torn from a journal.

_ At the bar, Hyde got into conversation with an older gent who’s name and face I can’t really remember. Though, this is not worth writing a note of it, what matters more importantly is that Hyde told this man about me and him. _

_ If I recall correctly, the conversation began after the man discussed how he’d conducted some less than ethical experiments during his time working in a university.  _

_ As if it were a good idea, Hyde immediately began to boast about how he experimented only on himself and that made it legal and morally ethical. I was too tired and tipsy to stop him from continuing, explaining nearly everything about our experiment to this complete and utter stranger. I don’t think he mentioned me by name, but the fellow knows his name, and I fear the consequences of this drunken conversation. _

_ What’s worse, I can’t even remember the fellow well enough to seek him out and explain things.  _

_ I only hope he’s rational and thought Hyde absolutely out of his mind. _

“So, it’s likely that this man is the one who broke into Hyde’s flat,” I said, tapping the page.

Holmes grinned, “Precisely! And the comment about experiments in university, I can examine my archives for crime that fits that description in recent decades. Though, there are many of those, and we still don’t have a solid lead as to who this man is.”

“If only we could wake up Hyde and ask him if he remembered the man,” I sighed.

“Even if he did, he was drunk, and likely wouldn’t be able to recall it,” Holmes added, equally downtrodden by this realization. “And, as you and Lanyon so clearly pointed it out, waking he and Jekyll would likely ensure their death, or injury. I must return to Baker Street and examine my archives if Hyde will not be a lead.”

A mysterious voice spoke up just then, soft, with a slight accent and an air of wisdom. “What if I told you, you could speak to him? Perhaps even see the memory yourself.”

The three of us, for Miss Rachel had not left, turned towards the voice in surprise. An old man, bent at the shoulders, with dark skin, light hair, and an eyepatch over one eye, stood on the middle landing of the main staircase within the Society, looking down at us. Slowly, he walked to join us below. “There is a way to speak with him.”

“How? He is unconscious,” Holmes said, frowning. 

“Precisely,” the man said coolly. “And in dreaming states, the soul is at its most vulnerable. I think I know a way that we can cause one of you to travel in to doctor Jekyll’s soul and find Hyde, perhaps even find the memory of that night.”

“That is impossible,” Holmes insisted, standing firm. “And who are you? We have not had the pleasure of exchanging names.“

“I am Doctor Maijabi.” His good eye seemed to glitter as he stared Holmes down, “And I assure you, I did actually study to achieve that title. Do not take my supernatural science so lightly, I’ve traveled in dreams and memories before.”

“And you intend to send one of us into the shattered mind of Jekyll and Hyde?” 

“No no, not you Mister Holmes, you think too much.” Holmes looked insulted and doctor Maijabi chuckled, gesturing to me. “Doctor Watson, on the other hand, has imagination, and that will aid him well in travelling between minds.”

“Absolutely not!” Holmes insisted. “I am not going to allow you to send my friend’s mind into the aether without-”

“Holmes, do I not get a chance to speak for myself?” I interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I-”

“I want to save this man, despite not believing in this. If it is only a hallucinogenic trip, I shall let you know when I wake, but I don’t doubt that Doctors Maijabi and Lanyon will be supervising. I am in good hands Holmes.”

I saw weakness cross his face, worry, fear, but he said: “If you insist, Watson.”

Turning to Maijabi, I nodded. “What will this entail?”

“You’ll be suspended in a sort of bath and blindfolded,” he explained, as if it were so simple. “I will guide you through a sort of hypnosis while you are, injected with a formula of my own concoction, nothing fatal I assure you. I will give the same sedative to Jekyll, and with my guidance, you will enter his mind and find what you are looking for. It will take all day, of course, to make preparations, so you’ve time to go through those records of yours and return here at sundown.”

“A well made plan, doctor,” I said firmly, despite doubts already beginning to creep into my mind.

“We’ll have a list of suspects by the time we return,” Holmes added, looking to me with a furrowed brow.

“Good luck, gentlemen,” Maijabi hummed, motioning for Rachel to follow him. She gave us a wave and scampered after the doctor and I pulled Holmes with me towards the door.

The walk back to Baker Street, again, was a silent one. I could tell that a dark cloud had settled over Holmes, the worry was painted in every line on his face and in the hunch of his shoulders. Behind the safety of our door, I finally spoke up.

“You’re scared about what will happen to me.”

“Of course I’m, concerned,” he said, looking up at me with a frown. He picked up the book he’d been reading, “This, petty tome had discussed what you plan to do. It said, time and time again, that trying to discover another’s mind lead to insanity. I can’t bear the thought of seeing you lose your mind, John.”

I sighed through my nose and walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And yet you would throw yourself at the opportunity to die in my stead. Do you not consider the kind of pain I would feel if you were to die in this same situation? Or worse, lose your sanity?”

“John this conversation is not about me.”

“But it is. You are being a hypocrite and far over protective. You forget, I can handle myself, I’ve handled the nightmares of years and years, a little hallucinating won’t kill me.” I smiled, “Otherwise, with all I’ve seen following you, I’d have already lost it.”

Holmes frowned, “This does not reassure me, but if you’re certain, I’ll… I’ll do my best to be there for you.” He put a hand over mine and looked up at me. “Don’t fall apart on me, I’m nothing without my Boswell.”

“And you say you’re not poetic.”

We stayed there a moment longer, until Holmes was steady, and then we turned to the scrap books.

We had a point of reference now, unethical experiments in a nearby University roughly in the last twenty years. And thankfully, despite Holmes’ normally Bohemian lifestyle, cluttered and chaotic, he kept immaculate records. Sorting first by year, then crimes, we compiled a list of every one we could find.

It was by chance that I found one from eight years prior involving none other than Professor Presbury.

I tapped Holmes on his shoulder and leaned over to show him the article.

_ November 12th, 187X - Professor Presbury Arrested for Unethical Science _

_ Tragedy at the University of London today as a favored Professor was escorted out by the police after students discovered the bodies of their cohorts in the basement where the Professor seemed in the process of trying to revive one of them via galvanic methods. He insisted he could save them if he only had enough charge, but Scotland Yard quickly determined it was for naught, as the bodies were long dead and cold. _

_ After a brief skirmish, the Professor was escorted out and taken to a nearby Asylum to be held and determine his state of mind. Current reports do not look optimistic however. _

_ Families mourn for their lost students this Friday at a memorial being held by the University. _

“Presbury again,” Holmes mumbled, taking the paper and writing the Professor’s name on a paper. “Wonder how he managed to recover from such a blow to his reputation.”

“Perhaps that was why he was at the dinner,” I offered. Holmes nodded in thought, and continued to dig through the papers.

Before long, we’d examined everything and had a small list of individuals who fit what Hyde remembered about the man he’d confessed to. If the experiment turned out to be a failure and we didn’t know who to look for, we could track these men down and interview them, see if they still remembered that night, if they remembered Hyde.

With the note complete, we sat back to lunch and discuss, Holmes plucking thoughtfully at his violin as we watched the sunlight creep across the floor.

As it began to set, he became agitated again, standing and declaring: “John I cannot let you go through with this foolish pseudoscientific procedure!”

I sat back in my chair, folding my arms, “Lucky that you do not have to then. You’re not going to stop me Holmes.” Leaning forward, I continued, “If this procedure gives us the information to track down the man that poisoned Hyde, do you not want it? Do you never want to find this man and let him poison someone else? Do you want to waste time while Jekyll wastes away?”

“I don’t want to lose you, there will be other ways!” He gestured to our list, only for his posture to go slack. “But you are right, it will be fastest. And, we must hurry, before Jekyll’s body gives out.”

I stood and touched his shoulder again. “You worry about me too much, I will live.”

“I know. And honestly, that’s what worries me.”


	5. Sensory Deprived Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Watson takes a step into the realm of nightmares and Hyde reveals what he knows.

For the second time that day, we passed through the doors of the Society for Arcane Sciences.

It felt as if we were running in circles, literally and metaphorically, coming back to what Hyde had seen time and time again. And, while I’d had confidence in the procedure during the daylight hours, as the night began to set in and the strange objects in the Society’s foyer took on an unsettling look in the electric light of their facility, I confess I grew more uneasy with each passing moment. 

One of the Lodgers was waiting for us, and led us up the stairs and around the balcony to one of the doors in which a plaque for Doctor Maijabi was mounted. He, a pleasant looking fellow with a delightful mustache, seemed as worried as Holmes and I were, and made us pause before entering.

“I’ll admit,” said he, “I am quite concerned for your safety Doctor Watson. I understand this is necessary to save our dear Henry, and yet, I do believe there are some aspects of soul we are not to fuss with.”

“Lucky for us that Jekyll has done most of the fussing,” I countered, trying to reassure the gentleman. He chuckled weakly and I saw Holmes sigh, looking away.

“That may be, Doctor Watson,” he said, nodding one final time, and turning to leave.

“You’re still certain about this?” Holmes asked as I put my hand on the doorknob.

“Can you think of any way that will not take days we do not have?” 

“No. I cannot.”

“Then yes, I am certain.” I turned the knob and pushed my way inside.

The breeze from the door caused a number of glowing, hanging bottles to stir, jingling softly like watery wind chimes. Strange mirrors full of twisting, smokelike shapes seemed to darken as Holmes and I passed them, moving towards the back where the glow of candlelight told us Doctor Maijabi was waiting. I saw Holmes pause near a desk, taking up a knife and looking over various papers with an expression that told me he was once again feeling lost from not understanding.

He was not a spiritual man, it was no surprise that ghosts should throw him so deeply into the sea of unknowing.

I walked on, stopping to shake hands with the waiting doctor beside a deep, wide porcelain tub. Scratches on the floor showed it’d recently been moved here, and Mr. Griffin was busy mixing salt into the water that filled it. Laying next to the tub, his head closest to where mine was soon to be, was the unconscious doctor Jekyll, looking more like Hyde this evening and deathly pale. Doctor Lanyon hovered over him, a hand on his pulse and a worried expression painting his face. Miss Ito stood to one side of them, working over a table, mixing this and that in small quantities, no doubt the concoction they were planning to inject me with. 

“His heart is getting worse,” Lanyon said after the greetings were gotten out of the way. “His breathing is shallow and his body temperature is dropping dangerously. We’re running out of time.”

“Then we best get to work,” Maijabi hummed, standing and looking to me. “Doctor Watson, if you’re ready, you need to strip as much as your comfortable with.”

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your fancy coat,” Mr. Griffin added with a sour look, mixing the water in the tub. 

I frowned, but nodded and indeed began to undress, noticing how Holmes made himself look away to hide a blush. Once in my undershirt and trousers, I handed him my clothing and once again was forced to consider this, the worry in his eyes was obvious and painful. But I saw no choice, it was the quickest way.

“Please sir, get into the tub.”

Careful not to slip, I climbed in. The water was surprisingly buoyant, and with little effort I could float on my back if I desired, but I remained sitting for now. Doctor Maijabi offered me a length of cloth, “Bind your eyes.”

“Why has he got to be blindfolded?” Holmes demanded, frowning.

“When a man is blinded, his senses of touch and sound grow far stronger,” Maijabi explained, voice like that of a teacher. “What we are doing here is attempting to recreate that effect, by stripping doctor Watson of his senses, we might be able to cause his mental senses to increase. And with the proper medicinal dose, and a guided voice of course, we may be able to get an answer from Hyde.”

“Might, may, you are not certain of this.”

“Psychic communication is hardly an exact science.”

“It’s hardly science at all!”

“Holmes, enough,” I said in a warning tone. He closed his mouth into a thin line, clearly having more to say. “I’ll be alright, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

“If you insist, my friend.”

I lifted the cloth to my eyes, tied it behind my head, and fell into darkness. Listening, I heard Maijabi take the so-called medicine from Miss Ito, felt the needle press into my shoulder, felt the burning of the concoction begin to spread under my skin. Admittedly, I hissed in pain, bunching my hands into fists and gritting my teeth. For a moment, I thought I heard Holmes begin to protest again, but he quickly fell silent, and I lost tell of where he was.

Hands guided me back to float in the saltwater as the burning began to subside, replaced with an odd sort of floating feeling that made it difficult to think clearly. Try as I might, I could not hold on to any one thought for more than a second before it fluttered away into oblivion. 

“It’s taking effect, Doctor Watson? Can you hear me?” I heard Maijabi ask, though it sounded warbling through the water sloshing around my ears.

“Yes,” I answered, though my tongue felt heavy and unfamiliar.

“Good. Now, I need you to listen to me, and only me until you are in Jekyll’s mind. From there, you are on your own.”

“I understand.”

I could hear the soft flipping of pages, but it was fading quickly. “Think of your home, think of standing in the living room, a familiar space. When you’re ready, open the front door, and go down to the street.”

“No one’s out here,” I reported, indeed seeing no one on the streets around Baker Street where I suddenly found myself. An icy breeze blew through me and I shivered, folding my arms against the chill as I walked on. The mysterious voice hummed,  _ “Well, now that is curious. Keep walking, ahead, can you see the Society?” _

“I can see it,” I told the voice in my mind, despite how I found it odd I should be discussing with a hallucination. 

_ “Good. Enter the door, Doctor Jekyll is waiting for you. _ ”

I approached the door, though it didn’t feel like I was walking quite correctly, my leg was bothering me. Giving it a shake, I knocked on the door, and pushed my way inside.

The light from the door shone inside, but illuminated nothing, and as the door swung shut with an ominous creak, I was dropped into darkness again. Then, with a sound like a lighting gas lamp, eerie blue colored candles lit up all around me, illuminating an entirely new space. Bookshelves lined the walls on all sides, stretching far overhead into a blue-black nothingness where strange white lights were floating here and there. A change had overcome me as well, my clothes, at one point a familiar old suit, had become weathered and worn, though I still had my Webley.

With the familiar pistol in hand, I set off into the library with one thought on my mind, finding Doctor Jekyll.

For what felt like an eternity, I wandered among the shelves, calling for Jekyll, who I knew to be here somewhere. Alas, my voice echoed back to me every time in the eerie silence. Occasionally, I would pass a door, some of which swung open at my presence to show strange things beyond, people I did not know, images of Jekyll who would not listen to me. Some doors were locked with strange green metal and would not budge, so I could only hope he wasn’t hiding there.

Lost as I was, I began to lose hope. 

Then a man’s scream of terror tore through the stillness, startling me. Though I roused myself and ran towards it, hoping it was Jekyll.

“Robert stop this! It’s not his fault!” a voice was crying.

“He’s  _ wrong _ Henry, he shouldn’t be here! Of course this is all his fault!” I heard the sound of metal clashing against wood and a small shriek of fear. “Finally destroying him will end this for us!”

“Well I don’t want to be ended!!” another voice snapped from around a corner, coming quick.

I turned, just in time for a small man with the messiest blonde hair I’ve ever seen to crash into me and send us both tumbling upon the floor with a curse. Footsteps approached quickly and two figures paused, staring at us. One, I recognized as a suited Doctor Lanyon in a top hat, though he seemed somehow wrong, as if his edges were out of focus. The other, dressed in worn clothes similar to mine, was Doctor Jekyll.

The small blonde scrambled behind me, my Webley in hand, “Don’t come any closer or, or, I’ll shoot!”

“You wouldn’t shoot me,” Lanyon purred, holding out a large sword. “Now come over here so I can finish you for good.”

“You can’t! I need him!” I said, standing, putting myself in the center of the fight. 

Lanyon tilted his head, “You are not meant to be here either, and yet, you’re not like Hyde. You’re something else.”

“I’m Doctor Watson and I, needed, to speak to Hyde!” A memory flickered in the back of my mind, a note, Hyde talking with someone about the serum. “He has answers, with them I can free him and Jekyll from being unconscious.”

“I can’t let you do that Doctor Watson,” Lanyon purred, “Hyde is an infection, and you know that infections must be healed.” He lowered the sword at my breast, “And, as far as I’m concerned, you are too. You don’t belong, and I’m going to get rid of you.”

“No, you won’t!” Jekyll stepped up beside me. “If, if you are what you say you are, I won’t allow you to do this. This is my mind, I created you, and I order you to stand down.”

Lanyon paused, seeming conflicted, then shook head head slowly and sadly. “Oh Henry, that’s not how this works.”

He snapped and from the darkness sprung pale chains, snagging me round my wrists and pulling me to one side. They wrapped around Henry like serpents and dragged him spread eagle against a bookshelf, pinning him in place despite his protests. “Robert no! If you kill Hyde, this place could crumble!”

“That’s quite the point my dear,” Lanyon answered, tapping the blade on Jekyll’s chains before coming to me. “However, this infection is an easy one to fix. I’ll get rid of Watson, then we’ll erase Hyde together, and you’ll feel much better.”

I struggled in the chains, looking for Hyde, who had disappeared somewhere during the conversation. That wily little scamp had stolen my Webley, leaving me defenseless as Doctor Lanyon prepared to gut me. Where was Holmes? Was he perhaps hiding to spring out and save me? No, no I remembered now, I was here alone.

The blade raised, Lanyon grinned, and a gunshot rang out in the dim space.

As the echo died away, Lanyon dropped the sword, staggering back and looking down. White cracks were spreading through his torso from a wound in his side. “No, no he can’t, not to me…” 

They spread all through him, the wound glowing brighter with each second. He stumbled back, the chains grew slack and dropped me to my feet, across I saw the ones around Jekyll disappear completely. Lanyon threw his head back and screamed as the strange white cracks consumed him, and he exploded in white light.

“Psychologists would have a field day with that,” I heard Hyde say, and looked up to see him sitting atop a bookshelf. He dropped down, “Inner demon destroying the personification of repression and perfectionism? Gotta be some symbolism in that.”

Jekyll snatched my Webley from him, “Hardly. He’s not gone, just, inconvenienced for now.”

“And how do you know?” Hyde sneered.

“I, don’t know, probably because it’s my mind.”

I opened my mouth to speak when the world around us shuddered violently and went dim for a moment. I heard Hyde and Jekyll both gasp in pain, and when light returned, they were clutching their chests.

“What was that?” I asked, looking around.

The two shared a horrified look. “We’re dying.”

“Then, quick! Hyde, you must remember the night you told a stranger about the potion, you must show me the memory! I need to know who he was!” I explained, taking my Webley from Doctor Jekyll and returning it to my coat.

“Wait who are you? How are you here?” Jekyll asked, wincing as Hyde smacked his arm. “He’s Doctor Watson, Sherlock Holmes’ partner!”

“Yes and your Lodgers sent me here with, I don’t know, I can’t remember.” The world around us shuddered again and I looked to Hyde. “Mr. Hyde, your life depends on you remembering that man’s face. You have to try!”

He nodded and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. Behind him, to my and doctor Jekyll’s surprise, an image began to appear. Warm lighting, fuzzy, sounds of drinking and merriment drifted out of it like a dream. Curious, I reached out to touch it, gasping as it grew larger and surrounded us, leaving us in a brightly lit tavern.

“Over there!” Hyde said, pointing to the bar, where we could see him, another him, laughing with a broad shouldered man. I moved over slowly, not wanting to disturb the scene lest that cause it to vanish, and leaned over to see the man’s face.

I caught a glimpse, my eyes went wide, and the world went dim.

There was only silence.

Then, shouting.

Hands lifted me out of the water of the bath and I gasped for air, coughing and choking and spitting out salt water, feeling it drain from my sinuses. Someone ripped the cloth from my eyes and the blue light of the lab blinded me. Behind, I could hear Doctor Lanyon and Miss Ito talking frantically, but more closely, I heard Holmes calling my name.

Blinking the darkness from my eyes, I turned towards his voice and felt his fine hands take my face, asking again and again if I could hear him.

“I-I can hear you,” I answered, blinking, trying to focus on his face. “What, what happened?”

“Doctor Jekyll went into some sort of seizure,” he explained, sounding sorrowful. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“Well we might lose Doctor Jekyll yet,” Mr. Griffin said, nodding towards where the others were working. “The change, it’s started again, even with the sedation.”

“We’re upping the dosage, but much higher and he’ll never wake up again!” Ito called to us, the distress evident in her voice. 

I wilted a bit, was this my fault? Did saving Hyde from that mental version of Lanyon only expedite their death? I prayed that was not the case, but was pulled from my thoughts by Holmes once more. “Did it work? Did you see the man? Do we have a suspect now?”

For a moment, I thought hard, trying to recall the face I’d seen in Hyde’s memory.

But, then it clicked, because I recognized him.

“Presbury. I saw Professor Trevor Presbury. I think he was the one who did this.”


	6. A Hyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes, Watson, and Lanyon chase down their suspect,  
> who meets a very unfortunate, gruesome, and gorey end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEVERE BODY HORROR AHEAD, TREAD WITH CAUTION  
> It's totally possible to skip this chapter, you'll just miss a chase scene

My head pounded to the rhythm of my heartbeat as we reconvened in Jekyll’s office. Doctor Lanyon had consumed two glasses of whiskey since our arrival, and Holmes sat in the window, smoking a cigarette and thinking.

“We’re wasting time!” Lanyon exclaimed suddenly, setting his glass down with enough force I feared it would break. “Why can we not go arrest Professor Presbury, right now?”

“We’ve only circumstantial evidence,” Holmes said quietly, “And I doubt the Yard would accept mind reading as concrete evidence.”

“So what do you propose detective?” snapped Lanyon. “We march up to him and ask, ‘hullo sir! Mind explaining why you’ve gone and poisoned our friend?’ How will we even find him! We don’t know where he is!”

“You, don’t know where he is,” Holmes said, sitting up. “I’m sure I could find him.”

“How exactly do you plan to do this?”

“The man’s reputation was in tatters, and given he was at the party you were at last night, he’s trying his hardest to repair it. Thus, if he’s wise, he’ll be out tonight as well.” Holmes stood from his seat, beginning to pace as he thought. “He was a professor at the University of London, thus, his reputation there must be at its worst, the first chance he finds, he will be there trying to make reparations.”

“Assuming they even allow him around their students again,” Lanyon said with a frown. “I imagine he’s banned from the campus.”

Holmes nodded, gesturing with his cigarette. “A staff only event then. Such as-” he took a newspaper from Jekyll’s desk and held it up. “An Anniversary banquet for the University. If he’s smart, and I’m starting to believe he is, he will be there attempting to fix broken relations with the other teachers.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let us go meet him and talk with him!” Lanyon cried. “Had I known all of this yesterday, I’d have stopped him when we encountered him on the street!”

“There is no point mourning what could have been Doctor.” He snuffed out his smoke in a small, unused ash tray on the desk. “Come, let’s go, and Watson, you must stay and rest.”

“Not a chance.” I stood, setting my own brandy glass aside. “You will need help in case he tries to flee, and walking in the fresher air will help rouse me.”

“John you’re still recovering from the procedure.”

“I’m fine, and I’m coming. You’ll have to sedate me like Jekyll to get me to stop.”

“Very well. Let’s not waste any more time, come on!”

We hurried outside and hailed the first possible cab, directing it to the University of London right away. I kept reaching into my coat where my Webley sat, glancing at Lanyon, at the place on his side where Hyde had shot him in the dream. It seemed so real, so utterly real, and yet now, only like a dream. I could not help but wonder then, as I do now, could such a procedure show us what the dead were thinking somehow?

I glanced at Holmes, who turned to look out the window, to hide he had been watching me.

Our cab came to a stop before the illustrious University and Holmes lead us as we hurried towards the Anniversary party. While we did find the hall where it was being hosted rather quickly, it was regrettably quite a large party, with many well suited men and women milling about over drinks. Holmes directed we split up, each taking a direction, asking for Professor Presbury. 

The crowd was thick and hard to maneuver through, especially when everyone I encountered seemed to know who I was, asking to discuss the cases and my work with Holmes even when I protested otherwise. As a lovely young man was trying to rope me into some gossip, however, I spotted Holmes and Presbury exiting through a side door, and began to make my way in that direction.

As I neared, Doctor Lanyon caught my arm. “Have you found him?”

“No but Holmes has, come along.”

We hurried after the two, following into a darkened wing of the university, where only moonlight provided illuminating. Their voices echoed from ahead. “You see, I’m working on another case and I fear it may end as your experiment did, with dead bodies in need of resurrection. If that is indeed the case, might you give me advice on how to… bring them back?”

Presbury hummed, folding his arms behind his back. “I see. Well, I would be willing to offer help, I could even send my… assistant to aid you.”

“Assistant?” Holmes repeated, slyly glancing over his shoulder and spotting us. “Do tell me more, have you hired them recently?”

“Very recently!” Presbury laughed as they turned a corner. Lanyon and I shared a nod before creeping after, I kept a hand on my Webley in case things grew more serious.

Ahead, the two stopped in front of the open door to the library, facing one another. Holmes folded his arms, “Would you say you’re, close to your new assistant, Professor Presbury?”

Presbury raised a brow, “What the devil does that mean?”

“Well, are you?”

“Yes, very close I would say.”

“One could almost say you’re, twins? Perhaps?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying Mr. Holmes.”

“And what am I implying exactly? That your assistant is family?” He cracked a small smile, “Or, perhaps, that your assistant IS you, maybe?”

Presbury stiffened, “That’s preposterous! How can I be two men at the same time?”

“WIth the formula you stole from Mister Hyde’s house perhaps? Or maybe the one you used to poison Doctor Jekyll?” Holmes continued coolly. “We have eyewitnesses who know you were there, Presbury. They saw what you did to him.”

“Impossible! No one would know it was me! I-” his eyes darted about, now aware he’d said to much. I stepped out with Doctor Lanyon, blocking the path back to the dining room and making our presence known.

“Presbury this ends tonight, what’s the antidote to the poison you inflicted on Jekyll?” Holmes demanded, reaching to grab Presbury by the lapel.

Alas, the man jumped back, reaching into his coat to pull out a small vial, glowing softly green. He uncorked it, even as Holmes shouted in protest, and downed the concoction, turning and running into the library.

“After him!” Lanyon cried as we gave chase into the books to find him. 

I could hear his running footsteps and ragged breathing, as well as an uncomfortable crackling sound and the shuffling of loose fabric. He’d changed himself, he’d made himself into a Hyde.

“That way!” Holmes cried, pointing.

We turned, and ahead I could see a much smaller figure in baggy clothes sprinting up the stairs at remarkable speed. As the others ran, I raised my Webley and fired two shots off, causing the figure to stumble forward with a shriek. And yet, it hopped to its feet and continued to run, scrambling up a bookshelf and hopping from shelf to shelf as Holmes and Lanyon ran below. 

I sprinted to catch up, watching as Presbury was cornered atop a book case, looking between Lanyon and Holmes on the ground below. He yanked another vial from his coat, holding over the edge. “Let me go, or Doctor Jekyll will die!”

“That’s the antidote then?” Holmes demanded as I raised my gun. 

“It is, it cancels the effect of the formula entirely, it’ll stop his transformations. And if you don’t lower that gun I’ll drop it and he’ll die.” Presbury held it out even further, and I saw the worry all over Lanyon’s face. Slowly, I lowered my gun, but not my glare.

“Now, stay back, and don’t move.” We did so, watching as he climbed down from the shelves and made his way over to the window, pushing it open. He paused, placing the antidote on a table and climbing into the sill of the window. “You don’t get it, this formula, it can be used for great things! With it, I can expose the evil in the world, show people the truth!”

“All it does is give voice to one’s inner fears, nothing more!” I stated, stepping forward. “You won’t do anything except confuse and probably kill a number of innocent people!”

“No one is innocent, Doctor Watson.” He looked between us, “And I’m not the only one who wants this potion, you know.”

“Who else is there?” Holmes demanded.

Presbury just smiled, “As if I’d ever tell you.”

And he turned to flee out the window, only to pause.

He gasped in pain and fell back on the floor, back arching. “NO! No no no no!” His bones began to crack and muscles began to bend, and for a moment we thought he was going to change back into the Presbury we recognized. And for a moment, he did.

He rolled and vomited upon the floor, thick green ooze mixed with blood and shreds of flesh, spasming and falling into the puddle. Holmes ran to his side, rolling him on his back and gasping in horror. I moved closer to look and covered my mouth in shock.

Presbury’s eyes bulged out, eyeballs twice the size of any normal human’s, pupils crowding into the sclera and darting around in terror. A second row of teeth was forcing its way into his mouth, shoving out his original teeth one by one, forcing him to swallow, or choke. Clumps of hair, both grey and a deep brown, fell from his scalp, leaving him bald and giving us a full view as his skin pulled taught on his scalp. He seized and thrashed, I could see his fingers splitting in twos and his skin growing disgustingly translucent, glowing green goop dripping from his body and mouth.

He seized once more, head snapping back, and went limp, eyes staring vacantly, blood dribbling from his face.

Holmes backed away, and I saw him visibly shudder as Presbury’s skin began to sag and melt from his body like wax. Doctor Lanyon rushed to a waste bin and vomited for a long moment. I simply stared, unable to take my eyes away from the utterly horrific sight.

Eventually, Holmes cleared his throat and spoke up. “Perhaps, perhaps we should contact the Yard to dispose of this, before someone finds it…”

I nodded, numb.

Professor Presbury was dead, but we had Jekyll’s antidote.

And a melting corpse.


	7. Antidote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cure is delivered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped chapter six, I made sure there was a recap at the start of this chapter.

We rode back to the Society in silence.

Behind us, Scotland Yard was keeping the party goers away from the library in the University as best they could while cleaning up the puddle that Professor Presbury had become after consuming a sample of the “Hyde” potion in an attempt to escape. We’d managed to get out with the antidote he’d left behind rather easily, but the Professor’s gruesome death had left us all shaken, especially with the ominous message that someone else had caused all of this.

Doctor Lanyon leaned on the window, staring outside, while Holmes looked deep in thought. I merely stared down at my hands, which now held a small vial of red fluid, the antidote, or so Presbury had claimed.

“What happened back there?” I asked finally, looking up at Lanyon and Holmes, seeking an answer.

“I imagine what would have happened to Doctor Jekyll had he not been sedated,” Holmes hummed, sounding worried.

“No, no that wasn’t what happened to Henry,” Lanyon said, looking up. “He changed back and forth from himself to Hyde, that was… that was one man trying to become two.”

“Some other poison, then,” I reasoned. “Someone poisoned his sample of the potion, but why?”

A moment of silence passed and Holmes sat up. “It’s because of us. Whoever told him to poison Jekyll, because I don’t think Presbury really had the nerve to kill a man without instruction, was supplying him with the potion most likely. Presbury gathered the notes and ingredients, but he was no alchemist. It’d be easy for them to brew the potion so it, killed him when he tried to become his Hyde again.”

“This isn’t over then,” Lanyon said, expression dropping in horror. “Someone else could still poison people.”

“They’ll be wise not to, at least not immediately.” He looked to the vial in my hand, “Besides, with just a small sample of the antidote, I’m sure Ito and Jekyll can synthesize more of it. We’ll be able to save anyone else poisoned.”

“And what if we’re too late?” Lanyon protested.

Holmes gave him a cold, stern look. “Best pray we are not.”

I held the vial tightly as we rumbled to a stop in front of the Society, most of its windows dark and quiet by now. We hurried out, Lanyon leading us back to the Alchemy lab where many of the Lodgers were gathered nervously at the door.

“Doctor Lanyon!” Mr. Archer cried, “Hurry! He’s gotten worse! We don’t have much time!”

I pressed the red vial into Lanyon’s hand as we pushed into the lab, racing back. Jekyll lay on the cot, limbs twitching, head tossing and turning, a steady dribble of that wretched green ooze dribbling down his mouth and chin with renewed fury. Lanyon ran to his side, passing the vial to Miss Ito, who examined it. With a firm nod, she uncorked it, drawing almost all of the antidote potion into a syringe and saving the rest to reverse engineer once the threat of Jekyll’s death no longer loomed so presently.

She pressed the red syringe into his jugular and pushed down on the plunger.

Jekyll’s eyes flew open wide, and I feared the sight of many pupils, but gratefully his eyes were simply his own, reddish brown, ringed with green being forced away by the antidote. He fell back, panting for air as the change reversed, leaving him just as himself, lying on the cot until his eyes fell shut again.

But now, when I felt his pulse in his wrist, it was steady and solid once more. His face was pale, but the fever had already dropped and he seemed more himself than I had seen him before. Lanyon relaxed visibly and Ito even smiled, Holmes clapped his hands and strode to the waiting Lodgers to declare the good news. 

Henry Jekyll was alive, and stable.

~

In two hours, Jekyll was awake and sitting with us in his office, nursing some soup that the staff woman Rachel had put together after being roused from her sleep.

“I had always known,” he began, “That the potion could have such side effects as what happened to Professor Presbury, but over time I added ingredients to act as limiters and prevent such…. Horrendous mutations. Of course, if the alchemist who brewed these poisons is in possession of my notes, as you say, they would be aware of this, and could easily twist it to craft the poisons we have witnessed.”

"How is Hyde, if I may ask?" I said, nursing a small brandy and and head ache from the opposite couch. Jekyll smiled weakly, "He is still rather scared by all this. And we both will be taking a vacation from the transformations for a week or two."

“Doctor Jekyll, do you know anyone who could potentially have the knowledge to do such a thing?” Holmes asked, sitting forward and leaning on his knees.

Jekyll shook his head, brushing his hair back over to the side. “No I don’t. Lanyon, have you got any idea?”

Lanyon stood against the window, looking outside into the night with a frown nearing a scowl. “No, I don’t know anyone.”

Jekyll wilted, “Robert please, you must understand why I couldn’t simply tell you that, Hyde was me! He’s a foul man and I’m, ashamed that he’s even part of me.”

“Henry, I’m not mad that you are Hyde, everyone has secrets and needs to indulge.” Lanyon looked back, “You merely found the most effective way to do so. I’m, only upset you didn’t think to tell me, or even want to. I could have helped.”

There was a pause, and Jekyll tilted his head as if to listen to something. He chuckled weakly, “I, well, Hyde says you’d have tried to put him in a suit and clean his hair, rather than understand.”

“Maybe so,” Lanyon mumbled, looking away.

Jekyll reached over and put an arm on his, “We’re facing something greater than my repressed nature Robert, someone has my serum now, think of what they will be able to do!”

“Make a lot of people unhappy and confused, but not much without being very very careful,” Holmes said, standing. “After all, they’ll have to get by all four of us, and the whole society. It’s a shame we don’t have enough of Presbury left to ask him.

I fought down a bitter laugh, “I am not going into anyone else’s head tonight, or any night.”

“It was mutually odd, I can assure you,” Jekyll chuckled, taking another sip of his soup.

“We must all stay vigilant,” Holmes said, taking control of the conversation once more. “If there are other crimes of Rogue Science around the city, they will be our enemies on the move, and an opportunity for us to find them before worse can be done.”

“You think there will be more crimes like what happened to Henry?” Lanyon asked, looking worried and angry. 

Holmes nodded slowly, “A new century is almost upon us, and you two are leading research that stretches the very definition of our reality. My world has been shaken to its very foundation these last two days, Doctor Watson’s mind was sent flying through the aether, and doctor Jekyll has split his very soul in two pieces. With these discoveries, crime will change to use them, mark my words. And this Society, with the four of us, are likely the only force protecting London from the supernatural.”

There was a moment of quiet.

Jekyll stood, drawing his blanket closer around his shoulders. “I quite agree. Mister Holmes, Doctor Watson, the facilities of the Society are at your disposal should another case arise where the forces of science are used for such horrendous evil.” He offered me his hand, “I look forward to working with you, Doctor Watson.”

I smiled and took his hand, shaking firmly. “And you, Doctor Jekyll. Though I think you and Lanyon have a few things to discuss.”

“You’re right.” He gave his friend a sad smile, and Holmes and I bid our farewells.

As we rode back home, Holmes looked to me and spoke. “When we first met, I told you you need not accompany on my cases if they gave you undue stress, and I extend that now. Things could become more dangerous than we’ve ever experienced, especially if these events begin to form some sort of pattern.”

“I know,” I told him, turning away from the city outside. “But you also know that I would not leave your side by choice, especially not if our darkest days are on fast approach.” 

Sherlock smiled at me, though I could see worry in his eyes, and offered me a hand. I took it, gave him a squeeze, wanting to reassure him.

The world was changing, and now we were standing square in the line of fire, but we were not alone, we had the Society.


	8. The Season That Never Was

This season on,  _ The Fringes of Arcance Science… _

“If Miss Maria was dead, then explain to me how she murdered our mortician,” Lestrade said sourly, gesturing with an arm to the gruesome scene in the morgue.

“Phlogiston,” Mr. Sinnett said at last, eyes going wide as he examined the skeleton. “He must have ingested deactivate phlogiston! It set him on fire from the inside out!”

Holmes reached out into the air above the strange, shaking chair, and we watched as his palm lay curved against some unseen surface. “Ah! There you are Mr. Griffin! Can you not speak?”

The head his hand was against nodded. “I see.”

I raised a hand for pause, noticing that Miss Flowers shared the same look I did. Slowly, we turned to the body on the table behind us, which had just begun to tick.

Holmes sat in the booth, a scowl on his face. Hypnosis? Poppycock! It was simply some sort of game, a hoax, fake!

And yet, as the small lenses began to flicker in front of the candle flame, green green green red, green green green red, he found it hard to focus, and even harder to look away.

“You must stay away from him Watson, you must leave now.”

I glanced from the pistol, to the familiar face I’d come to know. “Mycroft, why? You know Holmes means the world to me!”

His eyes darkened, “You don’t even know him.”

Hyde jumped up upon the table, turning to face us. “If it’s a fight they want? It’s a fight they’re going to get! No one hurts the Society on my watch!”

"You can call me Wells, if you must." The man with the goggles and dark hair smiled at us, the little woman ducking behind him in fear. 

"I'm the Time Traveller."


End file.
